protect me
by BirdPower
Summary: At some point the tower of people toppled over and the laughter died to a giggling herd of big brothers and sisters on the floor around me. So this giddy group of countries was a force that made several million people die and caused even more millions to shiver in fear. "Ich hab' euch auch vermisst, ihr Arschlöcher!"
1. Vertraue!

I hate this war. But what should I do?  
>I'm not stupid. If I stop fighting back, they will make me pay back everything, that I did. They will kill me.<br>Actually I don't even know if I'll make it tonight, the next days...  
>Perhaps I'll die. I'm not a real country anymore.<br>He did say it by himself...  
>If Germany isn't able to win these battles, he is not the right German country. If this Germany is too weak, he doesn't deserve to live.<br>Actually it's not unusual...I was never really Germanic after all...I was always a mud-blood and there's nothing in the world that would be able to change that.  
>Perhaps there will a new Germany after me, it's not the first time that a nation dies in this area nor will I be the last one.<br>I'm so fucking scared.  
>I don't want to die.<br>Italy is crying while he's treating my wounds, Japan is fighting with America, I haven't seen him in months.  
>The big burning right above my left ear makes a dull pain pound in my head. I don't dare to look at my leg while Italy is wrapping it with a bandage. I can't feel anymore pain there... No pain means something is worse than usual. I taste blood on my lip and try to ignore a constant prickle behind my eyes. I don't want Italy to see me cry.<br>I...I don't really trust him to be able to dry my tears.  
>There were only two people who could do that... one is dead and one is trying to kill me... and I'm trying to kill him...but I can't.<br>I try to find comfort in Italy's face, but there's just tears, snot and a bit of dirt.

„Italy?"  
>I'm asking and feeling bad about it.<br>But Feliciano promised, didn't he? He promised to be my friend. I said he would be there to help me, to get me out of trouble.  
>„Protect me this night. We don't know where England is, he might attack us and I can't fight in this condition."<br>I don't know if he understands the subtext... perhaps he just doesn't want to understand it.  
><em>I can't fight anymore...I'm dying...please make sure, they don't treat my corpse as bad as I was treating my dead victims...please give me a name on my stone.<em>  
>He smiles.<br>the next moment it is difficult for me to see it clearly.  
>My sight becomes blurry and suddenly my body feels light and the pain is gone.<p>

I can't believe it, when I wake up a little bird is chirping happily outside the tent and and under the omnipresent metallic scent of blood it smells a little bit like spring.  
>I'm still alive.<br>France is sitting next to my bed, a rifle in his hand and his helmet on the night stand. my hands are bound to the top of my bed, but I don't really care.  
><em>I'm still alive.<em>  
>He looks as bad as I'm feeling.<br>But even with all these wounds and cuts on his face, I can see hope in his eyes.  
>Hope that makes my tears finally fall.<p>

_"Where is Italy?"_


	2. Lebe!

A hollow "clonk", when he's leaning his rifle against the nightstand.  
>Soles scrape on the floor when he gets on his feets.<br>„I don't know. I haven't seen him in weeks."  
>I don't like it, when he's stooping over my bed like that.<br>I'm so scared.  
>It's over.<br>Whatever may come after this.  
>It's over.<br>Perhaps...I'm also bit happy.  
><em>I'm still alive.<em>

„_J'aurai pu te tuer, andouille!"_*  
>He mumbles to himself reaching for his handkerchief and wiping my tears away.<br>Secretly I'm leaning a little bit more in these hands.  
>I close my eyes and nod slightly, so that he knows that I understood what he said. I was never really good in speaking this language, but I can understand it a bit.<br>Him speaking about human rights, about civil liberties about fighting for freedom...it's one of the first thing in my life, that remember.  
><em>Liberté,Égalité, Fraternité.<em>  
>He was so tall back then.<br>Strong and big and scary in the way he made his people believe in him.  
>So scary.<br>And familiar, like an relative coming over to your house from time to time to tell you how ugly your interior is.  
><em>"Que-ce que je fait? C'est mon ennemi..."**<em> he mutters and sits down again folding the piece of silken piece of cloth neatly before putting it back in his pocket.  
>„Be happy, that I've got such a soft heart."<br>I like it when he's talking my language. I always did. The syllables are dancing like a melody through the room. I makes me notice how beautiful it can sound.  
>He looks into my eyes and it is almost unbearable to not avoid eye contact.<br>I nod again, not able to speak because if the big lumb in my throat.  
>Silence again.<br>I try to shift my body and shudder under the enourmous pain in my leg.  
><em>I can feel my leg again.<em>

„Why didn't you kill me?" A whisper, I hope he's even able to understand me.  
>„I don't know."<br>The morning light, dimmed by the brown fabric of the tent, is playing with the dirty strands of his hair.  
>It is sticky around a big laceration right above his forehead.<br>„I hate you so much."  
>A nod again.<br>I'm looking in my blanket.  
>It's true. he always disliked.<br>Even before I did anything. Just because of my existence.  
>It was always like this.<br>I did give him millions of reasons to hate me, to make his detest even bigger.  
>„I don't know why I didn't kill you."<br>He is reaching out touching my hair. I don't dare to look in his face.  
>There are no tears anymore, that I could cry.<br>„_But...  
>I don't want you to die.<br>I want you to see the pain you caused.  
>I want you to live with all this blood on your hands."<em>

*„J'aurai pu te tuer, andouille!"- "I could have killed you you, idiot." (andouille can also be some kind of sausage, so I thought it was fitting.^^")

**"Que-ce que je fait? C'est mon ennemi..."- what am I doing? This is my enemy..."


	3. Liebe!

While I would love being with my big brothers, the former German states, being under the care of France is actually a lot less terrible than I thought.  
>The work is hard, the people are scared of me and I'm still very scared about what will happen with me and my brothers. But generally, it could be much worse... I could be imprisoned in Russia.<br>I know that some of the allies think about making my former territory a „state of farmers". No industry, no weapons, no power, that's what they want for my people. But my people are not farmers...I'm a bit scared, that they start rioting again, when you want them to become one...And how the heck do the allies plan to protect over eighty million of Germans against Russia, who is shuffling with his feets to extent his influence in Europe. They want my brothers to be strong again. If there are many German countries, the chance that they are fighting against each other instead of others would be much bigger.  
>They want me to disappear.<br>I just survived a war that killed a big part of people of Europe and all they think about is killing me too.  
>France isn't talking with me about that though.<br>I'm thankful for that.  
>He makes sure, I become denazified...He's a lot stricter than England and America in this matter and it is a good thing in my opinion. America and Russia are more interested in getting qualified people for their own military and weapon industry.<br>They do denazify... they put leading nazis in a camp and now they waiting for a trial.  
>But there is still a big part of them that it running around freely and America doesn't feel like it is hurting his pride to smuggle genocidal people in his country and give them work and a responsible position again.<br>This is what America makes me learn so shortly after the war.  
>He is as egocentric as you can be...helping others in the war...I can't trust, that it was really because he wanted to help. It is about economics not about humanity.<p>

Living in Francis house is relatively nice.  
>I work and help building up what I destroyed, I get good food and France gives me wine.<br>It is nice to see him smile, when I make compliments about the cuisine...this is so new...I never was able to see him smile before.  
>The old man living next to me for as long as I remember looks so much younger and nicer when he's smiling.<br>Sometimes I'm asking myself...  
>If I weren't his neighbour...<br>If I were on an island somewhere in the sea...  
>If there were no need to fight about borders because the ocean would be my natural border...<br>Would I be different?  
>And would my relationship with France be a different one?<br>Is this living next to France what made me who I am?  
>Being surrounded by countries, which are so much older than me and who know that living without my existence is possible if not more convenient...is it a reason for the way I am?<p>

Of course you can't always blame others. I made my own decisions and mistakes.  
>The only one I can blame is myself being the unsufferable idiot, that I am.<br>Sometimes he's taking be with him to political meeting at the weekends.  
>A lot with England in very rare occassion with America and Russia.<br>They don't trust Russia.  
>I'm scared, that I'm not able to run away fast enough with my crutches.<br>It is not easy to deal with the thought of being so dependent on others mercy and protection.  
>At the other side it feels good, to have someone caring for you... even if they don't like me, they care for me, my people and my brothers.<br>They pay my medicin and they help my big brothers to build up houses and institutions again.  
>America is busy throwing atomic bombs on japanese towns full of civilians...he's helping with his money, but there are more important things on his schedule, than watching me becoming human.<br>Not that I'm in the position to critic anyone...but that doesn't change, that this weapon in the hands of a country, that is not much older or more experienced than me, is a slightly uncomfortable thought.

This is what happens with countries, if they aren't countries anymore.  
>They become people. Normal, ordinary people.<br>Humans, who can die after their lifetime ends.  
>I never told anyone about this, but I've seen that happening before.<br>I was almost a baby, half hidden under stolen coatee for the King's German Legion.  
>One of my people was holding me, protecting me from looks, watching Austria finally andoning the the crown of Holy Roman Empire.<br>First you didn't notice anything, but If you look closely, you could see him aging faster.  
>France was with him back then and for a little moment I almost thought he would cry.<br>The Holy Roman Empire...not only that he shared the same roots with France...he was also one of the few countries in Europe, which had the same age as him.  
>It must be frustrasting to see your generation die one by one.<br>Even if you are the cause for their death.  
>Perhaps this is a reason, why France took me in after taking me captive and is helping me to recover.<br>He doesn't like seeing die like humans...  
>and if I'd become human, my memories of my past as a country would fade away...<br>How could experience the consequences of my deeds, if I can't even remember what I did before the date I became human?

I don't know why exactly he decided to imprison me as Germany and so is keeping me alive...  
>But he did it.<br>And I like the thought that he wants be to stay as the country Germany, his western neighbour..  
>A neighbour you should protect, to make own life safe.<p> 


	4. Achte!

Back to the beginning of my time, as far as I can remember, there was always someone at my eastern side.  
>First we were living in the same house, we were strong together, and made the European continent our playfield. We christianized the others, England, Spain, Denmark, the Saxons.<br>I was _„West"_ and he was _„Est"_ and together we were the big Frankish Empire and we were strong and for a little time we were happy.  
>But even back then we were almost always fighting. Me, and my eastern brother.<br>We were so different. In physical size, in the way we thought, in the way we acted. I was a pervert from the very beginning, he always said. A romantic idiot, who tends to go overboard with his feelings way to often.  
>He was boring.<br>If you wanted to have fun, he'd find a way to prevent it...but still...even when we were always fighting, and our personalities were like a negative mirror of each other...we were a strong family.  
>We were strong because we complimented each other.<br>Together me and my eastern brother were unstoppable.

And then we were divided... and there was a baby at Holy Romes site, which I always hated, just for existing.  
>Just for his name.<br>Austria.  
>The thought of him heaving the name with the meaning east and not <em>my<em> East having this name...for me it was almost unbearable.  
>Over time, me and my brother and this stupid Austrian guy fought so many wars that at some time in the past I lost count of it.<br>Bit by bit, the brotherly love faded and was stayed was a mix of fear, respect and hostility. I hated it but there was nothing I did against it.

Nationalism changed everything.  
>With my people at my site I was stronger that the little countries around me. Me and my people we were fighting together and this together with Napoleon being just generally very strong and me being much more centralized than any other country, thanks to Louis XIV. We had a chance of making Europe ours again. And we did it.<br>It was in the years 1806 that the Holy Roman Empire stopped existing. Austria, the one I could never stand...even when this stupid girl, this princess came to me...she was just stupid, naive and blind.  
>I hated her.<br>Austria wanted to make me soft, with giving me his princess Marie-Antoinette... but he underestimated me. I may be a romantic idiot...but I'm a romantic idiot with the age of much more centuries, than him.

Okay... it wasn't just Austria... all these states wanting to become stronger...they were the one that stopped him to exist.  
>I hated the Holy Roman Empire and he was my enemy for a longer time, than most countries in Europe were alive, but I could never kill my own brother.<br>There were people of all different countries around.  
>They saw him fall on his knees, when the crown of his Empire dissolved in Austrias hands.<br>They saw him getting older in seconds.  
>They saw how the boy who was barely in his teenage-years, became an old man in minutes.<br>But they didn't hear, what he said before he lost his consciousness.  
>It was just a a whisper, but I could hear it and this is what counts...because these words mine and mine alone.<br>"Brother...protect me." and he fell with the face first in the dirt.  
>And there was just silence.<p>

That's when I understand one thing.  
>He was my brother.<br>Even after all this. He still was my little precious asshole of a brother.  
>You can't just stop being brothers.<br>If you are family, you're family and there's nothing to change it.  
>Countries may stop existing... but family bonds, the respect, love even hate... all these intense emotional bonds between us..they don't just stop existing just because of that.<br>I did what a brother had to do.  
>I chased everyone away, and took care of my brother.<br>I brought him in a place were noone could find him.  
>And for the next years, until my human brother died, I visited him as often as I could, and almost melted when I saw the happiness in his wrinkled, old face.<p>

At the evening of this day, the last day the Holy Roman Empire, I found a little boy on the stone steps in front of my house. He may have been two years, he may have been four, it's difficult to guess the age of such a young person.  
>His white chemise was dirty like he had played at a really dusty place and greasy blond curls enframed his tiny face. His blue eyes were watery and his lips were shivering slightly, while silent tears blazed glittering trails on his dusty face.<br>I always had a thing for children.  
>The are so cute and squishy and innocent.<br>"Come on, little one, let big brother France take care of you." I cooed and taking the boy on my arms to get him in the house bath him and make him something to eat.  
>"Do you like choucroute, little boy?" I smiled and ruffled his hair, which was still wet from bathing.<br>"Sou'kruht?" the boy asked and looked up curiously.  
>"It's pickled white cabbage." I explained, but his face stayed unsure.<br>"J' äm...Pomm' d' tär." he stuttered in broken French and my big heart melted a bit.  
>"So it's mashed potatoes and sourcrout, then." I chuckled, giving him a big dishtowel as a bib so that he won't make his new chemise all dirty again.<br>Cooking for someone was always one of my favorite activities.  
>Especially for cute little children.<br>The times were unsure and with his blond locks and his blue eyes, and him clinging to me like I was the most important thing in his short life...he was like a mirror of the old man, my brother, the one I left behind...a mirror of myself being left by _East_ and feeling so lonely all of sudden...I felt like I had to take care of him.  
>The next years of me being the biggest power in Europe(well...except Russia), I had someone to come home to. Of course there was also Spain and Poland and Sweden and many other... but I liked the thought of having someone to take care of.<br>I liked teaching him to read, to write and talk French and I loved how he'd hang on every word I'd say...to be idolized so much is something new for me...but it felt good.  
>The congress of Vienna, however, changed everything.<br>He cried when he left my house.

Clonk  
>clonk<br>clonk

Today I woke up by the hollow "clonk, clonk, clonk" of crutches on tiles.  
>In a whim I got on my feet and tiptoed behind Ludwig to have a look in the bathroom.<br>His hair got really long in the last few years, he was living with me. Right now he's playing to move on with his brother again.  
>I'm okay with this.<br>As long as everyone is taking care of him...he's not like the last big war...he's not full of oppressed Anger like after the first world war.  
>He's shocked. And silent.<br>And somehow he's like a child not knowing how to walk and talk.  
>Everything he thought he was, is not true anymore, so he has to find a new "Ludwig" somewhere between the ashes of the old one.<br>While he's shaving his face, I'm mustering this young man, who'll be my new old neighbour.  
>During the days of his war imprisonment his hair wax got empty so he's not combing his hair back at the moment.<br>He looks young with the growing curls enframing his face. I didn't even know that he had curls until the strands reached his chin in the last years. He's annoyed by it, but I like it, so I said he should leave it like that.  
>Ludwig obeyed reluctantly and with a slightly bashful expression.<br>I'm feeling so old, when I'm looking at his young face.  
>"Want to eat some mashed potatoes with sourcrout for lunch?"<br>It looked funny how he jumped with his crutches.  
>I haven't laughed in a long time.<br>It feels nice.


	5. Eine!

„We want to be one country again, We demand you to let Germany live with us again."

This brother is new in the family...almost a child, but the way he acts and speaks, lets me know from whose house he's coming.

The bushy eyebrows, The eyes, grey and cold like the North Sea, the clean English free of any accent just screams „Welfs" and „Saxons" at you.

You can practically „see" Hanovers demeanor, with his silent love for machines, vehicles and everything English.

You could feel Frisland in his even face that was a bit too squared too look actually pretty. Cool, quiet and stubborn sitting there for thousands of years just not caring for whoever may reign at that time or another.

I can sense the marshes of Lower Germany in his ashy blond hair, no bird's song for your delight, just oaks standing still and shtum.

The way his lips part in a grim smile, showing fang-like teeth, remind me of the weird humour of Wilhelm Busch, so weird that they claim the Germans to have no humour.

Even the bushy eyebrows I first thought to be English, reminded a bit of the deep Teutoburgian Forest. To his luck he was much too young so it was very unlikely that he actually fought against Rome in the year 9 AD. Naked, according Tacitus.

Knowing the weather in the region of the Central European Lowlands, I highly doubt, that anybody would do that ...however looking at him he probably was at least stubborn enough to try it.

This boy, whose name I don't know, is so obviously part of my family that it almost hurts.

Back at the end of last century I was trying to protect my brothers, not knowing what I did. Now I was actually protected by them. Even though I didn't know the name of this particular one.

It especially the countries under English care, that start planning for us living together again.

England is there, watching carefully but somehow it seems like proud.

This is his effort working with them to form a vision of Germany becoming a democratic confederation.

"We'll take care of him." unruly hair and a man as old that the first German country is young. I notice that both wear tiny cufflinks in with emblems. A rearing white horse on red ground.

The _Sachsenross. _

Westphalia was never an outspoken person, so him say aloud to be there for me and not show it by actions is unusual. He can be scary, sometimes he cares a bit too much for me to feel comfortable. He's missing his close relationship with the Netherlands.

I destroyed so much, not only for the other countries, but also in the life of my brothers, that I claimed to love so much.

Relations that have grown centuries over centuries, and I destroyed them in just a dozen of years.

I look down on my hands to hide my eyes, getting glassy. I still don't get why my brothers even bother about wanting me back. I destroyed so much.

Westphalia falls quiet again, I hear America asking France and England, hat they think about that matter. England talks, but I can't follow what he says.

I feel weak.

When I woke up there were too many people to count.

Next to me sat Bavaria, grinning broadly with his freckled face a bit to close to mine. " God morning, _Bundesrepublik Deutschland_!" He's laughing with his deep and guttural voice. "You're at home, _mei Bub_!" his big bear-hug almost made me faint again. This man clearly has too much power for my own good.

"Careful! Don't hurt our _petit Prince_!" cooed Baden somewhere behind me, then several pairs of arms locked around me and him. "You guys, I really appreciate it, but it's a bit difficult to breath like that." I tried to get a bit of room.

But my brothers have never been easy on me.

Roaring laughter and followed by more arms around this gigantic pile of siblings on top and around of me.

At some point the tower of people toppled over and the laughter died to a giggling herd of big brothers and sisters on the floor around me.

So this giddy group of countries was a force that made several million people die and caused even more millions to shiver in fear.

"_Ich hab' euch auch vermisst, ihr Arschlöcher!_"* I mumbled, hoping that France, who was watching the spectacle, his eyes glittering in amusement, didn't understand what I said. I'm sure he didn't like me getting vulgar like that.

*I missed you too, a*holes!"

This chapter is a lot lighter than the last ones, but i think it is important to have a bit of brotherly fluff in it, when I waht to write a good story about Ludwig.


End file.
